


snowed in

by wouldyouknowmore



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Cabin Fic, First Time, Incest, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 20:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20141506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wouldyouknowmore/pseuds/wouldyouknowmore
Summary: This fic is Late™ and has not seen a beta woopsAll love and credit and blame goes to lokilovesthorki for dropping in my dms like 8 months ago to plant this little seed in my brain and then waiting patiently for it to grow lol ❤️





	snowed in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LokilovesThorki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokilovesThorki/gifts).

> This fic is Late™ and has not seen a beta woops
> 
> All love and credit and blame goes to lokilovesthorki for dropping in my dms like 8 months ago to plant this little seed in my brain and then waiting patiently for it to grow lol ❤️

Loki sits in one of the ancient, mismatched kitchen chairs and takes stock of the situation. 

Family cabin, snow falling, picturesque view of the lake and mountains in the dying light, framed by the tall windows at the other end of the room. Lovely. All well and good. And even better for the fact that his family is not currently in said family cabin. 

Most of it, that is.

Loki continues his appraisal. 

Older brother, sitting across the table. Smiling. Low ponytail and deep red, expertly tailored suit jacket, styled casually. When the _fuck _did Thor learn to dress like that? Blue eyes, crinkled up and warm, making Loki’s stomach twist itself up in knots. 

It’s all per usual though. The last couple years of limited interaction haven’t done shit for this little problem of his, it seems. Or for Thor’s observation skills. If he looked just a little closer, if he had ever just once in the last decade and a half looked just the tiniest bit harder, he might have caught on to what those smiles and warm looks do to his little brother. He obviously hasn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t still be giving them. Like he is now.

Loki’s phone sits on the table between them, screen dark, just as it’s been for the last hour. He’d gotten one last text from their mother on the road in, just before he lost signal. _Running behind, baby. See you in an hour. Don’t stab your brother. :)_ Nothing else is going to pop up and save him from this awkward (on his side, at least) silence, not with the complete and utter lack of cell service up here, but it doesn’t stop him from glancing down at it now out of habit and desperation. 

“You’re looking really good, Lo,” Thor says then, breaking the silence. “Really fit.”

Loki only just keeps from closing his eyes while he silently prays for strength. 

He hates Thor. So much. 

(But not really.)

“Are you running?”

Far away, yes, he’s about to. 

“Yes. And yoga,” Loki says as evenly as he can. 

Thor’s eyes widen, just for a moment, but then his smile is just as bright as it has ever been once again. “Maybe you can teach me? I’ve been getting sick of lifting lately.”

Loki is cursed (blessed) with a sudden, brief mental image of Thor in downward dog, his own hands nudging at his brother here and there, adjusting his stance, lifting his hips, pressing into his lower back… 

Fuck. 

“… I’m not sure you’d like it.”

He looks back to the windows to shake it off—and has to blink away his shock when he notices how quickly the view outside has changed. 

It’s been snowing all day, no surprise there, but it’s gone dark now, and all Loki can see through the window is a furious grey swirl and the drifts piled up against the glass, still growing at an alarming rate. 

“Thor,” he says, panic creeping up on him as quickly as the falling snow, and points. 

“What—oh. Oh.”

———

Three hours later, Loki takes stock of the _new_ situation. 

Freak blizzard, power outage, two buried cars in the drive… and Loki’s in need of new tires, at that. No word from the parents. As far as the two of them can figure, Frigga and Odin had probably turned around at the pass or wound up not leaving home in the first place. 

And now Loki and Thor are going nowhere. 

Great.

There’s plenty of dry firewood, so they won’t be freezing to death, but only one wood-burning stove, and it’s never done much more than heat the front room. Not such a huge deal in the summer, or even in the winter (when the space heater in the loft upstairs actually had power), but quite problematic now. There’s a day bed in the small front room, piled high with old quilts and pillows, but no couch. This hadn’t been a big deal either when Loki and Thor were small… they’d just burrowed into the blankets together there in front of the fire and were perfectly content. 

It’s a big deal now.

“Just like when we were kids,” Thor says, moving the extra decorative pillows out of the way. 

Loki would like to say that he isn’t ogling his brother’s ass while he does so, but the sweatpants they’d found in a drawer hadn’t been worn since either of them were in high school, and the way they cling while Thor bends over is incredibly distracting. And the thin t-shirt he’d had on under that jacket, how visible his nipples are beneath it in the cold, the size of his fucking arms now that he can see them… That’s distracting too.

“Yeah. Sure,” Loki mutters. 

Thor holds up the blanket and makes an _after you_ gesture. His smile is apologetic, but Loki feels like he’s the one who should be apologizing. 

He keeps it to himself though, and lets out a sigh before he climbs in. 

———

Loki dreams of something he really, really shouldn’t. But whether he should or shouldn’t has never made a difference before, and this isn’t the first time he’s woken up overheated and hard and frustrated, still so sure that he can feel Thor’s skin under his hands, smell the sweat between them—

Loki freezes. He’d been ready to stretch out, roll over, and ignore his aching and inappropriate hard-on one more time (as usual), but at the same moment he arches his back, he feels two things that he absolutely should not be feeling, and it all comes rushing back. 

Thor’s ass, snuggled back into his crotch, firm and warm and mind-blowing as he unintentionally grinds his dick against it is one. A solid handful of his brother’s left pec is the other, and his heartbeat, strong and fast beneath his ribs. 

Cabin. Snowed in. One bed. 

And now he’s gone and molested his big brother in his sleep. 

Loki lets go immediately, mortified, hating himself both for having done this and for still really wanting it to continue. It’s too hot, between the fire and the quilts and the fact that Thor is radiating heat like a furnace, and Loki can’t breathe, he can’t think straight… Fuck, does Thor realize what’s going on? Is he awake? 

What has he done? 

He means to get up, put as much space between them as he can as fast as he can, even if it comes down to running right out into the snowstorm, but he doesn’t even get his arm pulled back from where he’s snaked it around Thor’s side before his wrist is grabbed, and Thor speaks up, his voice low and rough with sleep.

“Please,” he says, “come on, Lo, please…”

Loki can’t imagine what he means by this, but then Thor shoves his hand lower, down over his stomach, until Loki can feel something hot and hard and unmistakable through those stupid sweatpants. 

The groan that Loki finds himself letting out is nearly as loud as Thor’s, and both echo in the quiet of the cabin. 

“Loki, god, please just—“ Thor grates out, arching up into Loki’s palm, pressing down with his own hand, and Loki nearly chokes. It’s too much, it’s too insane and impossible to be believed, but he’s had far too many dreams of fucking his brother… enough that he knows the difference between the Thor in his head and the real thing here in front of him, against him, panting and apparently more desperate for this than Loki has ever dared to imagine he could be. 

_How the fuck, _he thinks for half a second, and then decides that he doesn’t really care.

Thor holds onto his forearm like a lifeline while Loki slips his hand under his waistband—and there, _shit_, he should have known that Thor’s cock would feel as perfect as the rest of him, thick and heavy in his hand, leaving a damp spot on the front of his sweatpants already. How long has he been like this? How long has Loki been groping him in his sleep, for that matter? 

How long has Thor wanted this, too? 

He isn’t about to ask that just yet, though. Not while Thor is gasping with every slow, uncertain movement of Loki’s hand, his back pressing against Loki’s chest with each breath. He never thought he could have this, and he’s not saying anything that could snap them back to reality. It will happen eventually, he’s sure, but not before he has this chance here now.

“Lo, oh shit, Loki,” Thor practically whines when Loki picks up his pace. It could have something to do with how warm it is between them, but he’s pretty sure that the sound of it alone could leave him as lightheaded as he’s begun to feel. And when he purposefully presses forward, grinding against Thor with intention this time, his brother hums his approval and reaches back to grab at his hip with clumsy fingers, saying, “Come on, yeah.” It’s almost enough to distract him from just how good it feels. 

They continue this way for a little while, all harsh breaths and greedy, roaming hands, but soon, Loki finds that, while a rushed hand job under the sheets and rutting against Thor’s ass until he comes in his pants like a teenager is more than he ever thought he would get, he wants more still. And maybe it isn’t what Thor was looking for with this, maybe he’s making a mistake, but he can’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to the side of Thor’s throat. 

The noise that Thor lets out, from deep in his chest, convinces Loki to be a little bolder. So he moves a little higher still, Thor’s beard brushing his nose, then up to his jaw, his heart pounding—and suddenly Thor twists in his arms, turning and catching Loki’s lips with his own, and Loki makes some sort of devastated little whimper himself because Thor has _kissed_ him, they’re _kissing_, and he can’t bring himself to believe it. 

It isn’t perfect. Thor tastes like he’s been asleep for hours because he has (and Loki is sure his own breath isn’t fabulous either), and the angle is a little awkward, and he completely forgets what his hand was doing, but after a moment, Thor drags Loki further on top of him and takes his face in both hands, never breaking the kiss, never hesitating. And Loki decides that there’s no reason for him to keep holding back either.

Thor will just have to forgive him the minor detour when he lets go of his cock, but Loki’s got to touch absolutely everything now. All the miles of his sweat-slicked skin and muscle are too good to pass up, but Thor doesn’t seem to mind when Loki reaches back up under his shirt to feel his way across them. He only licks into Loki’s mouth and starts his own eager exploration, his hands warm and huge across Loki’s ribs and down his back and pushing his sweatpants down over his ass and—

_“Fuck,”_ Loki says, completely stunned as Thor gets a hand on his cock. 

Thor gives him an appreciative groan in reply. 

The covers are kicked out of the way a moment later, their legs tangle immediately, and then any and all attempts at finesse are abandoned in favor of getting Thor’s pants shoved down just far enough for them to get ahold of both their cocks together, and Loki isn’t sure which one of them curses louder at the contact. All he knows is that this once will never be enough for him, not now that he’s gotten this taste... and that the desperate, hungry look in Thor’s eyes, visible even in the dim light from the fire, suggests that he’s thinking the same. Loki’s heart pounds a little harder in his chest while he considers what this means for them, where they might go from here—and then Thor does something with the pad of his thumb that nearly pushes him straight over the edge. 

“Thor,” he manages to choke out, but that’s all before Thor hauls him back down for what’s more an uncoordinated brush of lips and tongues than a kiss. 

Neither of them last long. If Loki could think more clearly, he might be more conscious of how quickly and easily he comes apart, but then again, it isn’t just him panting open-mouthed and holding on for dear life here while they try and find a rhythm together. And maybe he’ll get the chance to show Thor how much better he could do with a clear head and fifteen years of guilt-laden pining already resolved, but for now, no one complains about the sweat or the old daybed creaking with every stilted thrust of their hips or the fact that a little lube would go a long way. 

Loki comes first, burying his face in Thor’s neck and muffling his inarticulate shout there, but Thor isn’t far behind. And though Loki doesn’t get to see the look on his face, he can feel the way Thor’s fingers dig into his back and hear the way Thor repeats his name with what sounds like relief and something close to awe. It’s a bit life-changing to be perfectly honest.

Nothing is said for a good long while as they slowly catch their breaths. It’s just the crackle of the fire and Loki’s own heartbeat loud in his ears, but Thor doesn’t let go of him either, so he doesn’t panic. If he’d thought that Thor would suddenly turn regretful as soon as the dust settled, he’s quite happy to have been proven wrong, and even happier when Thor’s fingers slide up his back to tangle in his hair. 

“Are you alright?” Thor asks then, barely a whisper. “Is this... are we alright?”

He sounds more apprehensive than Loki cares for, and sure enough, the concern is plain on his face and in the furrow between his eyebrows when Loki pulls back to look him in the eyes. 

“I sort of sprang this on you, Lo,” he starts, too apologetic. So Loki shuts him up with a kiss, and this time, he does his best to back it up with all the want and longing and desire he’s been struggling with for half his life. 

Judging by the way Thor melts into it, it seems that Loki may have missed the fact that it wasn’t just him all this time. 

“I think we’re better than alright,” Loki tells him when they part several minutes later. 

Thor gives him another of his soft, warm looks, and he wonders how he ever could have hated them. 

———

In the morning, a slow, sleepy make out session is interrupted by a crunching noise that steadily gets louder and louder, until they reluctantly crawl out of bed, straighten themselves up, and dig a path out through the snow piled up against the front door. 

It’s a truck with a plow attached, and the moment it pulls up in front of the cabin, the passenger door opens, and Frigga climbs down, worry all over her face. 

“Oh, you didn’t freeze to death or kill each other, thank goodness,” she says.

While the driveway is cleared, Loki and Thor lean on the porch railing and watch the sun rise over the lake, painting all the snow-covered trees in pinks and golds. And when Frigga goes inside out of the cold, Thor gives Loki a hungry look over his coffee and quietly says, “Do you have plans for the rest of the weekend?”

Loki smiles, remembering their conversation before the power had gone out last night, and thinking of at least three poses he’d love to bend Thor into. 

“Are you still up for some yoga lessons?” he asks. 

Thor grins back. “Anytime, Lo.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/woulduknowmore)


End file.
